Masqueraded Identities

Chapter Twenty Four

All too quickly, the weekend was over, and tech week was in full swing. Staying in the auditorium until nine PM every night was just not my thing. I loved acting. But, it really sucked having to stay up until midnight doing homework and then having to wake up at six the next morning.

Mark was acting a little better, but by this point, I didn't care how he was acting. I didn't really want to talk to him. Ever. And, I should have broken up with him. But there was still this small belief deep down inside that maybe, just maybe, he was my masked stranger after all. And that's what kept me going, what kept me pursuing this relationship still.

It was Wednesday. Everyone was feeling a little hectic. After all, opening night was in two days. I ended up finding out a bunch of rich people that lived near Princeton came out to watch the shows, even if none of their children went to the school. That was kind of nerve-racking, seeing as I was probably one of the only people here who hadn't had enough allowance money for a nose job by the age of ten.

It was finally nearing the end of rehearsal, and I was about to change in my costume. But I remembered I left my chapstick (Burt's Bees, in case you cared. That stuff is valuable, yo.) in the auditorium. I went back on stage, and saw Mark had his back turned to me. His back was facing me.

“Wednesday. You can come then. The semester ends. Bring the goods, I got the protection,” he said, a smile in his voice.

My eyebrows raised. What was that supposed to mean?

“Don't worry, I'll make sure she's gone. She'll probably be doing something with her friend, anyway at the formal celebration,” he said assuredly.

I had to walk off the stage and back to the changing rooms, just so I wouldn't blurt anything out. I was obviously not meant to hear that conversation. And, maybe I should have been upset about the suspicious conversation, but I wasn't. I almost felt relieved. Maybe he'd mess up really, really bad, again, and I could finally break up with him and not worry if it was my stranger or not. My stranger would treat me better than this, right?

I walked into the dressing room and changed.

I didn't even bother saying good-bye to Mark. I wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone. I had way too many things to think about.

I was walking to my dorm in the dark, shivering in the cold Massachusetts air. I should have brought a jacket with me, even if the walk to my dorm really wasn't that long. I was halfway there, when I heard a voice, also apparently on the phone by the lack of a second voice.

This time, the voice was of Ryan Hutchins.

“I really like her, man. She's... She's proved me wrong about love and all that shit,” Ryan said with a nervous chuckle.

Silence.

“I want to tell her. Within the next week. There's a formal event next week to celebrate the end of the semester. I was thinking I could make an appearance.”

Silence.

“She's magical. I just... I dunno. I can't ex-”

But my jogging to my dorm cut the rest of the sentence off. My breath was shaky and raspy. My eyes were filling with tears. Ryan... Of course he liked someone else. Heck, loved someone else, at that. What made me think I had been special enough to attract Ryan Hutchins? What had made me think that Ryan, this beautiful boy, would be my masked stranger? He would never see me in that way.

I wiped away another tear.

Wait. A tear?

Why was I crying over Ryan freaking Hutchins? He was an asshole. A jerk. He was shallow and stupid and everything I should NOT be into. So, why was I crying over the fact that Ryan loved another girl? And why wasn't I upset that me and my current boyfriend were growing farther and farther apart with each passing minute?

I walked up to my dorm room in a faze, the tears quickly becoming icy and cold on my face. I swiped at them, again, and hoped my eyes weren't too red or puffy. I had never really been a messy or obvious crier, thankfully. I could not tell Tay about this. There was no way in hell I was ready for that. She would torture and taunt me about it for hours.

Don't get me wrong. She would torture me with the utmost excitement and glee and concern and care. But I just wasn't ready to talk about my feelings yet. I didn't even know what my feelings were, exactly, anyway.

Thankfully, Tay was snoring like a pig when I came in the room. I quietly closed the door, slung my backpack to the floor, and grabbed my laptop. I quick checked Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr. The usual. I then opened up the document for the essay I had to write, added the finishing touches, and emailed it to my English teacher.

Thankfully, that was the only homework I had that night. I quick got a shower, brushed my teeth, changed into my jammies, and slid into my bed, tightly holding my stuffed animal giraffe, Paco. Yes, yes I did name my giraffe Paco. Yes, I also realize that giraffes live in Africa, not Latin America. No, no I do not care.

Despite how my mind was cranking out thoughts at a thousand thoughts per minute, I was able to fall asleep into a deep sleep very, very quickly.

That night I dreamed of Ryan. I wasn't sure what happened in the dream, but I woke up feeling warm and snuggly and happy. The mere dream of being with Ryan made me happier than I had felt in the past month being with Mark.

I shook my head in disgust, and slammed my hand on the beeping alarm clock.

What was wrong with my head?